


winter pulls me through her door

by janie_tangerine



Series: jbweek 2019 [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Scientists, Antarctica, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jaime/Brienne Appreciation Week 2019, Minor Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Oral Sex, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, The Author Regrets Nothing, Winter, Woman on Top, based on a true story thing or so the world informs me, minor Jon Connington/Brynden Tully, minor Jon Snow/Samwell Tarly/Ygritte
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 03:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which Jaime and Brienne are the only scientists stationed in this one base in Antarctica for the winter who haven't hooked up with each other.Yet.





	winter pulls me through her door

**Author's Note:**

> HEEEY SO this is a late jbweek entry for day five, _winter_ and _cold_. Now, backstory: a while ago I shared [this one post on tumblr](https://janiedean.tumblr.com/post/178772322343/joey-wheeler-official-killin-the-machine) which tldr is about the fact that apparently the scientist in the McMurdo base in Antarctica spend 90% of their time either doing weed or having orgies, and I got sent _ANTARCTIC SCIENTIST AU: Jaime intended to stay celibate on the job, but as his co-workers paired off one after another (Tully with Connington, Snow with Tarly, Snow with Wilde, Snow with Tarly and Wilde.....) and he starts to appreciate Dr Tarth for more than her devotion to ethics and the scientific method. Eventually he's glad Cersei is 1000 miles away_ AAAND IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME but I never forgot it and I thought it was perfect for this prompt. So, have... crack pwp about people hooking up in Antarctica. I never said I was a serious person.
> 
> And hopefully see you later with a late day six entry and a day seven one... in the next few days because ofc I fell behind /o\ also, as usual nothing belongs to me and the title is from an unreleased Springsteen song you only find on bootlegs at this point but it fit my needs. *saunters back downstairs*

So: Jaime had _not_, in any way shape or form, thought he’d end up actually using any of the condoms he found in his room when he arrived here.

Fine, it’s not that he didn’t know the legends about how much people fucked down here the moment winter started, and it’s not even that he hadn’t understood _why_ it would be the case. They’re fucking miles from the South Pole, it’s _dark_, they won’t see the sun for months, and there’s an amount of research you can pull off during the day before you have to stop.

_Obviously_ people fuck a lot. Obviously they’re given condoms. Fuck’s sake, he got HIV tested before coming here, and when he told the nurse — Arianne Martell, he thinks that was her name — that he wasn’t intending on partaking in any orgy, she had just looked straight at him and said, _you think you won’t_.

Anyway. He had honestly meant to stay clear of _that_. Not even out of, well, faithfulness, since he came here hearing Cersei’s voice in the back of his head, repeating all over, _if you leave for this long we’re done_, but — but he _did_ work for years to get into this specific project and as much as his entire family bar his brother has laughed in the face of the fact that he wanted to research climate change for a living, and _this_ is the chance of a lifetime to actually get some results if he stays here for the whole year, and so he went.

He had also figured he could clear his mind while he was at it, which meant, _staying celibate_. Which he had thought would not be a problem, since he hasn’t been with anyone that’s not, well, _Cersei_, and hasn’t he regretted _that_, and it’s not like he likes one night stands as general idea — he hates the idea of not even knowing who he’s fucking, and so the prospect of spending the eight months on the opposite hemisphere and only worrying about his work sounded better than _being stuck in Antarctica during the winter_ sounded daunting.

Except that the moment people left for the winter and it was just him and the few other dozens of scientists around the base, _well_.

Things went South really, _really_ fast, forgive him the pun.

First it was Brynden Tully, the oceanologist, standing up and frenching Jon Connington from the vulcanology branch, and they subsequently have _not_ stopped fucking since whenever they aren’t working. Which, considering that with this weather _their_ specific research is hardly taking a lot of time, means that they’re fucking _a damned lot_. Not that Connington hadn’t seemed starved to move on from Rhaegar Targaryen From Vulcanology As Well, so good for them, Jaime had figured.

Then there was the whole zoology department frenzy, because Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly ended up in a thing that Jaime thinks is way more than friends with benefits after spending the summer bonding over their baby penguins, except that then Snow was found banging Ygritte Snowsbane (the local ichthyologist, she should work along with Tully, _should_ being the key word) in the breakfast room — or better, _she_ was banging him rather than the contrary, and for two days people wondered what the hell they were up to… just to hear the _three_ of them fucking each others’s brains in Snow’s room, which Jaime figures has the larger bed.

They haven’t quite stopped since either, and he’d have figured that would be _it_, except that then Oberyn Martell showed up late into whichever program they have going on in the geology department and two days later, according to the local gossip he had fucked each single person in that area of the base, and more than one at once, for that matter.

That was _before_ Sansa Stark from glaciology said _I guess he won’t get it otherwise_ after a few beers one evening, stood up and locked lips with Sandor Clegane, as in, the _other_ resident penguin expert but just specializing on one specific breed rather than _baby penguins_ in general. Of course now they’re also fucking like there’s no tomorrow.

Now they’re one month into temperatures way in the negative, no sunlight outside, the entire damned base going at it worse than rabbits except for him and his research partner —

Until five minutes ago.

So: he and Brienne Tarth had been partners from the get go. It took them a couple of weeks in the summer to stop trading jabs at each other and for her to realize that he was an ass to _everyone_ he met and then stopped if he actually liked them and so he didn’t _really_ mean any of his terrible lines about how bad she looked in pink and so on for them to actually start working together _well_, but — thing is, he could see in ten seconds that she was good, and she saw that he was, too, even if she didn’t admit it to him until they went together for drinks some time into week three, just after New Year’s.

Now: Brienne is good at her job. She’s also punctual, diligent, actually listens to suggestions, doesn’t guess things, runs experiments five times before coming to him for his opinion and won’t give hers on _his_ work until he’s also run the experiment five times. He also likes working with her because she actually does ask good, relevant questions, and in the few months they’ve been here, they’ve done some pretty damn good work and he’s sure they’ll come out of here with a damn good paper to show for it.

She also is the only other person who hasn’t about fucked anyone since Tully and Connington opened the dances. One evening she said she was done fucking colleagues after her PhD classmates asked her out on a bet, and maybe they _had_ drunk something because honestly, if you don’t fuck or read drinking is about the one thing you can do unless you go find Bronn Blackwater (as in, the local janitor who seems to always have a stash of weed ready for all purposes) and ask him for something to smoke, and he might have told her about Cersei because after the outrage on her behalf disappeared he felt — _alone_, and tired, and missing his brother

(_not Cersei, not really_)

and he had expected her to be disgusted, honestly, what should she have done, and instead she said that it sounded awful and he did the right thing coming here if that was what he wanted.

After that, he just —

He considers her a friend. A very good friend. Most likely the only close friend he has, as sad as it sounds, but maybe he had noticed her large shoulders, long muscular legs and her astonishing blue eyes in a way that was not friendly whatsoever, never mind that he likes that she has freckles on her face and shoulders and that her hair is a completely different shade of blonde than Cersei’s, but —

He decided to clear his head. He was going to stick to it. Also she didn’t really sound interested in _that_ sense.

Except.

_Except_.

Except that a few hours ago Oberyn proclaimed that it was too dark and miserable even for fucking, so he was going to find Bronn and ask for _plenty_ of weed, and Sansa had dragged Brienne into _considering giving it a try_, Sandor had just stared at him and said _it’s not going to kill you for once_, and so they had ended up with the damned weed.

_Of course_, everyone else has barely smoked half of their joints before they’re all over each other.

Jaime is pretty sure Sansa and Sandor just disappeared with Oberyn and another four people from his department.

Right then.

He takes another drag from his joint — at least he _did_ smoke half of it. Honestly, he doesn’t see the big deal about it; fine, he feels maybe a bit giddier than usual, but other than smelling better than regular cigarettes he’s finding it highly overrated. Maybe he’s one of those people that aren’t really affected.

Brienne is doing the same next to him, and _maybe_ she looks a tad more relaxed than usual, but still —

“So,” he says, “anything different?”

“Honestly? It’s — I mean, I guess I feel warmer and it’s _nice_, but nothing life changing.”

“I’m not even feeling that much warmer,” Jaime sighs, shuddering — of course the heating works here and they have appropriate clothing, but he always suffered cold more than anyone else in the family and being down here is miserable at times.

“Wait, are you cold?” Brienne asks, her blue eyes staring straight into his, and, thing is — he _is_, he _is_, and he’s been cold for a damned long time and not just because he’s been in Antarctica for months, and maybe that weed _did_ have some effect on her, because rather than telling him to find a blanket she just moves next to him on the sofa where they’re sitting, and puts an arm around him, and —

Oh.

She’s _warm_, he thinks. Very much so.

Warm and softer than she looks under the unflattering shirts with a men’s cut that she wears all the time. Also, her hand on his shoulder is drawing him in gently, and considering that the last time he hugged someone it was his brother before he left for Antarctica —

He shudders. Then moves closer.

“Any better?” She asks, blowing out smoke.

“Actually, yes,” he admits, and maybe he wouldn’t have said it straight without weed, but — it _is_, and she sighs before bringing him closer —

Then the door slams open.

“Good grief,” Ygritte says, heading for the coffee machine, “are you two _still_ not going for it? Please, you’re being ridiculous at this point.”

“What —” Jaime starts, not even bothering to move, even if the implication —

“Please,” she says, getting three cups. “We thought you would be the fucking _first_ to jump each other with all the unreleased tension and all. We still have like, three quarters of those condoms and I’m pretty sure we can ask for more in case, just put yourself out of your misery.”

She fills the cups, then grabs all of them, turning towards Jaime again —

“Honestly, you’re _embarrassing_,” she proclaims, and then leaves with her coffees, slamming the door.

Jaime immediately turns, looking at Brienne, figuring she’ll confirm that Ygritte was seeing things —

But she’s not meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he says, suddenly feeling bolder, “was — did she have a point?”

Brienne takes a breath, turns to him, her blue eyes meeting his, and — well. _Shit_. No way Ygritte wasn’t right. You can read it on her face, she doesn’t need to answer.

“Please,” she says, “we don’t have to make this awkward. I know that I’m not — and I know that people here will make do with anyone but if you don’t —”

She hasn’t said a thing openly but Jaime thinks he gets it, he _does_, and —

Oh, fuck that noise and fuck celibacy, he decides, and a moment later he’s thrown away the joint and he’s kissed her and for a moment she freezes but then she kisses _back_ and —

He doesn’t know how they end up from _there_ to Jaime straddling her, knees around her hips, his tongue meeting hers, her hands grasping at his hair and bringing him closer and _closer_, and now he’s nowhere near cold anymore because his blood is rushing down fast and everything feels scalding including her hands touching him all over his back, but in the best way, and —

“Fuck,” she says, “tell me you _do_ have those condoms because your room is a lot closer than mine.”

Well.

Maybe the weed did make her bolder, too, because now she’s not looking down and her eyes are dark blue and she’s staring up at him like she can’t wait to get him naked and shit but he _also_ can’t wait for it —

“Yeah,” he says, “three full boxes, probably, should we —”

“_Yes_,” she says, and then she grabs him under the thighs and _lifts him up_ and fuck is she bringing him to his room just like _that_ —

Oh, fuck, she _is_, and by the time they’ve managed to open the door and she’s thrown him on the bed he’s so hard it’s _painful_, and they actually waste three of those condoms because he rips them too hard in haste and then he has to just let her do it because his hands are shaking too much, and then she’s on top of him and she’s kissing him again and —

“Uh, you don’t mind if —” She starts when they end up with his hands pinned to the bed, and it takes him a second to get it.

“Hell, _no_,” he says, “it’s not like I haven’t had my share of fantasies about you pinning me down or having those legs around my face, for —”

He never finishes that sentence because she’s done _just that_ and her legs are around his thighs and her mouth is on his neck and he doesn’t know when he tells her that he needs to taste her before they do anything else, and a moment later she’s sitting on his face while holding his hands to the wall and _fuck_ but she has some strong thighs, exactly the way he had pictured, and when his tongue meets the soft, warm flesh in between she’s dripping wet already, and she moans his name when he starts licking her _around_ her clit, one of her hands moving to the back of his head while the other holds _both_ his wrists to the wall, her fingers running through his hair as she moans his name while he works his way around her clit, not touching it until her thighs are shaking, and then he _does_ and she about screams, and when she spills all over his tongue it’s sweet and _strong_ and fuck but he just wishes he had taken it slower, except that then she’s moving away from him and she’s kissing her again, letting his hands go —

She puts hers around his face, kissing him again, then moving her way down his chest before leaning back and then she has lowered herself down on his cock and she’s moving slow, _slow_, up and down, her hands going to his wrists again, and he screams her name before telling her he won’t last long like this, he won’t, but she says it’s not the point and rides him harder and sinks down on him in one last, smooth motion —

It’s been a long time is what he’ll tell himself later.

_Now_, though, the wave of pleasure hits him so fucking hard that he arches off the bed and everything goes white for a moment and he thinks he’s screamed her name out loud once, twice —

“Jaime?”

_What_ —

He opens his eyes. Brienne is lying on her side, a hand on his hip, looking down at him.

Wait.

“Shit,” he says, “don’t tell me I passed out.”

“Well,” she says, half-smiling, “you kind of did, but if it consoles you it proved each single guy who ever asked me out on a joke wrong.”

Woah.

Fuck.

He _really_ had been gone without a long time, hadn’t he.

“Right,” he says, “better seeing it as a confirm of your skills than utter embarrassment. So, you think you might be up to see if you make me pass out again? Because I _do_ have condoms.”

“This is where I tell you that Sansa informed me a couple of days ago that if we ever got over ourselves, she and Sandor are open to, uh, four-ways.”

“… She said _what_,” Jaime says, feeling like he’s being hit with too much information at once.

“Exactly that. I said that it seemed a bit too early to worry about that, but —”

“I think,” Jaime says, “that while I wouldn’t say no to the occasional orgy if only because I suppose it will be inevitable, I’d rather have a _lot_ of one on one time with you. I haven’t wanted you to slam me against the wall for the last two months just to jump into the next available local orgy.”

She grins again, tentative at first but broader later, and then she’s on top of him again —

“Well, I had no plans for tonight.”

“Good,” Jaime says, “because I think I have them _now_ and they include finding out how many positions we can try out before one of us collapses.”

“Nice,” Brienne agrees, leaning down to kiss him again, slower, her thigh rubbing across his own, and Jaime might not have thought he’d end up using those condoms, but _now_?

Now if he ends up having to restock, he won’t complain about it whatsoever.

End.


End file.
